Now That It's Over
by Naladot
Summary: For one moment, the fate of China rested in the hands of Li Shang.  He chose wrong.  Short Oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** Mulan belongs to Disney; the title "Now That It's Over" belongs to Building 429.

**Now That It's Over**

* * *

_What if everything had happened the way it should have. . ._

She stared up at Shang, her dark eyes wide and solemn. The sword was heavy and deathly cold in his hand, and he paused, an eternity stretching out before him, as he focused on the person who should have been a hero, Li Shang's closest friend, but for her womanhood. Ping--Mulan--wore a familiar look of wisdom and understanding, a look Shang had come to revere, for it meant that something extraordinary was going to happen. Hope swelled inside him, maybe she would find a way out of this mess. . . But she knelt still in the frigid snow. Once again the decision rested with him.

Tension was building in the air behind him as the men engaged in a silent war, some for Mulan and others against her. He knew what the felt, but more terribly, for he alone had to deem one side in the right, to make a choice as weighty as the sword felt in his hand. He tried to tell himself that the death of one woman meant nothing to the fate of China, nor of his men. Two traditions tore at him, one that said she was nothing, nothing, dispensable, a waste of air except where she was needed by men, nothing, nothing. The other longed for integrity and honor, and for the first time he saw her clearly. Inside this woman was fierce determination that had kept her hidden for so long, the skill of a warrior (she alone had reached the arrow), the selflessness and love that ran out with a cannon before the grotesquely huge Hun army and Shan Yu himself, the--the something that caused her to gallop through rushing snow after him. But still, she was nothing, nothing. . .

All this flashed through his mind in a split second, and he was back in the snow, his breath fogging in the cold air, unable to decide between what must be done and what should be done.

With a cold, deathly change of heart, Shang made his choice. He walked forward, feeling none of the grandeur he had so long dreamed of--Mulan had never before looked so vulnerable--Mulan's eyes bored into his.

The troops trudged away, behind Captain Li, leaving a remarkable woman crumpled and forgotten with her own blood staining the pristine white snow. Her black horse refused to come with them.

Hours later, as he pounded, pounded, pounded, against the huge doors of the palace, he refused to think about her.

When his eyes saw a victorious Shan Yu dangling the body of their beloved emperor above the crowd, he wouldn't think about her.

Shang thought he would be killed. All the soldiers Shan Yu had fought in mountain pass were lined up in one of the large, recently defaced rooms of the palace. Somehow, someway, Hun reinforcement had arrived and huge men guarded the door, horrible gloating sneers on their broad faces. The torchlight barely illuminated the vast room. Shan Yu himself, wearing the emperor's crest, looked at each soldier in turn, studying the faces, before slaughtering each. Shang stood in the line before Chien-Po, Yao, and Ling. One word from Shang and his life would be spared--but he would have to endure Shan Yu's laughter, laughter at the discovery that the one he sought lay dead in the mountains by Shang's hand.

Captain Li Shang stood straighter as Shan Yu surveyed him. His eyes narrowed, and he moved down the line, past Chien-Po and Yao, looking once at Ling, before moving back to Shang.

"Where is he?"

Shang said nothing. Shan Yu's voice was low and quiet, unearthly amber eyes glaring down at the captain of the only troops who had managed to strike a blow to the Hun army.

"I asked, WHERE IS HE?" the new emperor's roar echoed throughout the chamber.

The four men stood silently, and in Shang's imagination, united by common experiences and respect. Yao's next, hoarse words shattered that sense of security.

"It was a woman." he said gruffly, looking Shan Yu right in the eyes. "Her name was Mulan, the _girl _who defeated you. . . Our own dear Captain Li did the honors of killing her for you."

Shan Yu grinned, revealing horrible yellow teeth. Shang felt intensely the hatred of the other three as he gritted his teeth and tears smarted against his eyes. . . Now wasn't the time to think about one insignificant act!

But there she was, in his head, innocent, saintlike. The room swam before his eyes and self-hatred crept up on him, guilt flooding his every sense. He fell to his knees, trying not to retch. Somewhere above his Shan Yu was laughing, but all Shang could see was a sea of memories unrelated but for Mulan--her throwing the arrow at his feet, she was running in front of him in the mountains, long sweaty training sessions (he had favored her, he realized later), her running in front of Shan Yu with a cannon, the blood on her hand from the Hun sword, the blood all over her from Shang's sword--she was still unburied, somewhere in the mountains. . . _What have I done. . ._


End file.
